


Breaks in the dust-lines

by kinkmerighthererightnow



Series: Cat!lock [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cat John, Cat Sherlock, Catlock, Cuddling, For more than one reason, Gen, Grooming, M/M, Unless you want it to be, Well - Freeform, but not really, extreme fluff, possible johnlock - Freeform, they're cats, up to you, what do you expect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5202968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkmerighthererightnow/pseuds/kinkmerighthererightnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wakes John from a nap by knocking down the skull on the mantlepiece. Fluff aproaches quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaks in the dust-lines

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!   
> I published an even shorter one-shot a while ago with possible catlock. Someone commented they imagined them to be a ginger and a, obviosly, black cat. I found the idea so endearing, I wanted to write a couple of little fillers in between my other projects.   
> Writing this one has filled me with so much fluffy joy, I had to pick a fight with our young rebel cat to feel tough again :D
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :) If you have anything you'd like me to write, let me know :3

John startled awake to the sound of clattering. Looking up and searching the room for danger, he spotted Sherlock at the other end of the room, looking back at him from in front of the fireplace with an awaiting expression, no doubt just waiting to snap back at whatever question John might pose. But he just closed his eyes again, purred to himself and laid his head back down, taking one deep breath and releasing it to calm his racing heart.

Falling back asleep, however, turned out to be less easy as Sherlock began to rumble on and on about Mrs. Hudson having swiped all surfaces in the flat so now Sherlock wouldn't be able to deduce where she would hide the catnip next.

He never ate much, not even treats, but if there was one thing you could have him come running through the entire house for, it was the catnip. Usually he inspected the dust on every surface to see where there were prints or where the lady's movement had whirled it up a little, but every once in a while she came and dusted the upstairs flat as well while they were asleep. She didn't live in this part of the house, just keeping her comfortable little flat downstairs and left this one to Sherlock and John, but she still kept it in shape for them both to live in healthily.

 

John stretched, uncurling his body, front paws meeting with the armrest, while his hind legs stretched against nothing but the cushions he was laying on. His paws wide in the motion, his claws briefly dug into the fabric above. He got up, then, deciding he wouldn't get any sleep like this anyway, and trotted into the kitchen, passing Sherlock with a light flick of his ginger tail against the black head, just to mock him a little more. His head dipped into the bowl of water, he looked up innocently into Sherlock's glowering blue eyes. It was fascinating: John had seen lots of cats with different furs, but he had never seen a cat so black with such light blue eyes. Black cats usually danced the field between yellow and green. That wasn't the only odd thing though, John thought as he drank from the bowl, blinking slowly at the other tomcat; Sherlock was also a rather large cat, at least compared to himself, and even though he was alarmingly thin, he looked healthy and good. Such an odd fellow. But very endearing in his own quirky way. John couldn't have wished for a better companion to be stuck with.

The clinking of his collar against the glass distracted him for a second and he looked at the spot where they had collided, licked some spare drop from his lip, licked the other lip and then walked away again, stopping briefly by his food bowl, considered and took one of the crunchy balls back to the sofa with him.

 

When jumped onto the cushion, he noticed Sherlock following behind him. Cuddling time, apparently. Fine with him. He laid down on his stomach and waited for the black cat to join him purring softly when the lanky body brushed against his side as Sherlock rounded him territorially.

As Sherlock stood beside him and bowed his head down, John met his snout for some quick nuzzling before Sherlock rubbed their cheeks together.

The loud and deep purr was always almost hypnotic and the gentle drags of his friend's tongue over his head like a good, warm massage. Soon he was dozing off, kept from falling asleep entirely only by the occasional bump of Sherlock's nose into his collar. Grooming and cuddling were the only times he minded that thing, really, but he'd never put up a fight like Sherlock until the poor older lady gave up. But then, Sherlock was rather a free spirit anyway, he guessed.

Sometimes the other would even put in the effort to fiddle with the collar in ways John couldn't follow until it fell open and gave room for proper scent marking. Right now, this seemed to do.

 

Some-when along the way, Sherlock gave cue that it was his turn now and John happily cleaned and marked him. There was no rivalry for dominance between them, funny as it seems, but right from the beginning they just got on in the silent agreement that they'd both share everything and were equals in their small pack of three, so, either one smelled like either one in here, like a good family did.

 


End file.
